Leaving the Ghosts to Rest
by Daisy Red
Summary: One shot based on the characters in Hellraiser III. Joey is reunited with Elliot Spencer in her dreams.


A/N: This contains some sexual shenanigans and a bit of sadism for good measure. As such it is rated 'M', just to be safe.

disclaimer: Copyright belongs to Clive Barker and Dimension Films. I do not own any of these characters but I'm cheeky enough to borrow them for a while.

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Leaving the Ghosts to Rest

'You are stronger than you think, Joey.'

It was three years to the day that Elliot Spencer had said these words to Joey Summerskill, former Journalist and sole survivor of a demon's attempts to make her suffer for eternity. Joey placed the small leather-bound book she had been reading upon her lap and leaned back into her comfortable armchair. She glanced to her left at the large bookcase chasing height up the wall and her eyes fell upon the three slender books she had authored. She smiled grimly and tried to shake away the memories that spurred the inspiration for them. The memories were too strong.

After the nightmare had ended, Joey had pushed to report on the Hell she had experienced first-hand, but her pleas fell on the deaf-and rather concerned- ears of her station manager, who dismissed her ranting's as a symptom of an ambitious colleague who had simply been working too hard. With so many people unwilling to believe her story, Joey decided to write down all she remembered about the Lament Configuration box, the demon it swallowed and its human counterpart who had saved her life…Elliot Spencer. Elliot. It was more than a push for the truth. Logic could easily distort facts over time and those memories, as fickle as they were, had to be recorded for her sanity at the very least. It was important for her not to forget that there was something out there out of the ordinary, that something that had claimed so many of her friends. She missed them but could spare no more tears for them. It would be a waste.

The books she had published about this period in her life came in the form of a warning treatise masquerading as fictional novellas. They were not bestsellers, but there were buyers at least. She wondered if some of her readers were survivors like her, and if they would gain comfort in knowing they were not alone in their experience. She hoped so. It was a comfort to believe that there might be others like her who had escaped their Hell. It was a selfish thought but she could not bear to be alone in that god-awful club she had unwittingly joined.

In addition to the non-fiction fiction, she wrote articles in various magazines ranging from current events to vapid fashion articles to local hero news, all of which helped supplement her income which she had used to research _that _box that had haunted her. For three years of writing and chasing leads, she had successfully managed to hide herself away in her little apartment, not caring about big current events that were confined within the accepted norm. All the important news remained separated from this reality and so simply smiling into the camera after interviewing local politicians or trying to catch the next big scoop by following emergency vehicles left her cold. When she quit the station and her burgeoning career, she left her old life behind, along with her big apartment with the view…with the window.

Joey smiled and thought of Elliot. He had first appeared to her in her dreams as her ghostly knight in a dusty military uniform. Captain Elliot spencer was a fighter and survivor from the Great War, ultimately to become a lost soul in the aftermath of so many lost lives. She raised her hand and touched the cheek he had caressed when they had met in the window of her mind. Joey thought of him often and in doing so her memories would awaken the fear of the demon he had created when he had delved into that other World. Even now, she felt the hairs on her arms prickle and the air in her cosy room felt decidedly cooler. She had named his demon Pinhead. It was intended as a derogatory term and it seemed like childish name-calling now, but she hated him- no not him, it. Still, the insult stuck and the thing with nails hammered into his gridded head would always be known to her by that description. She couldn't bear to think that Elliot had been consumed by him and was still a part of that vile character, perhaps suffering in Hell. Naivety was not part of her life's training and she knew that Elliot was human and had faults, but the fate that befell him was a punishment too far and too cruel.

She blinked a few times in an effort to contain her tears and carefully moved the book from her lap to the side table, taking care not to touch the current centrepiece. The book was old and ragged with dark splattered stains on the cover, which she suspected was dried blood. It was an item she had stumbled across whilst searching for information on the Lament Configuration, that small, expertly crafted cube that acted as gateway to a dimension of otherworldly experiences. After her experience with the box, she became intrigued by it and gradually and obsessively gathered all the information she could muster regarding its secrets. As it was no longer in the concrete grave where she had originally placed it, she felt the need to arm herself with as much knowledge as possible in case the thing was ever opened again and its contents released.

'Never again,' she muttered.

All the writings, journals and snippets she had amassed so far had all professed that the Lemarchand box contained pleasures beyond human capacity. Joey knew about those so called pleasures and scoffed at the deceptive term. Still, she had replayed Pinhead's words in her mind over and over: _I will enjoy making you bleed. And I will enjoy making you enjoy it_. She couldn't imagine where that enjoyment would come from. It seemed like a massive contradiction and yet maybe it was just another one of Pinhead's seductive oratory's to lure the disenchanted into his world. It could have been that simple but where that particular demon was concerned there was no black and white, but shades of red. Perhaps with his warped sensibilities the pleasure was a product of the pain, but in Joey's world, it certainly didn't ring true, not for her or nor for a great many other people who weren't servants of Hell…or something like it.

She sighed and pulled her feet up onto the armchair. It had been another long day of research and writing and the light in the room was dimming. She scanned her poorly furnished surroundings and felt a sharp pang of loneliness as she heard the sound of lovers laughing in the street below. After Pinhead had effectively destroyed her friends, she chose not to develop close relationships with anyone else and although she knew it was for the best, she occasionally longed for some form of human contact and carried a longing to acquiesce to the gilded life she had before. Listening to the patter of rain hitting the guttering outside, Joey rested her head back in the seat and closing her eyes, she drifted into sleep.

The trenches were empty. Joey felt the dirt beneath her feet and could smell the lingering stench of cannon fire and burnt flesh, yet there were no bodies to be seen. The World in which she stood was a muted hue of brown and grey. There was no bird song, no voices that chattered in the gloom and the only sound filling the heavy silence was the crackle of fire coming from a wooden platform behind an abandoned field gun. Joey hitched up her white gown and tentatively moved around the deep furrows in the earth. She walked for a while in the scarred earth, squinting through the misty air, trying to find the man she had dreamed about as often as she had dreamed about her father. She stepped around a heavy wooden ladder that lay outside the trench, searching the landscape and stopped when she saw a figure heading toward her. When she spotted the peaked cap and the recognized his familiar smile, she ran to him.

'Elliot!'

'Joey. It is wonderful to see you again.'

'I needed to see you''

Elliot stood with his arms outstretched. Clad in his khaki uniform and dark clean boots, he looked to Joey more heroic and confident than she remembered. His posture was straight and his blue eyes gleamed at her.

'I was so worried for you. I thought you were lost'. Joey reached for his hands and squeezed them, her way of making sure he wasn't just another apparition that would disappear on touch.

Elliot rested his thumbs on the top of her hands and gently stroked the skin in circular motions. He gazed up at her and his smile faltered. 'I am lost Joey. I am afraid of that there is no doubt. But please, do not grieve for me as you did your father. You have your own life now, a fresh start.' At this Elliot looked at their surroundings. 'A new and bright future a long long way from this dark past.'

Joey felt the tears well up in her eyes. She didn't want to cry, to disappoint him. He had once called her brave and though the volume had been turned down in her life, she wanted him to believe that she was still the fighter that he was proud of but when she looked at the man before her with his dimpled smile slight frame she could not bear to think of him trapped in his own personal Hell.

'Surely there is something we can do. Can you not escape from him?'

He lifted a hand to her face and wiped away a stray tear.

'I don't believe either of us can.' He said, losing the dimples.

Joey leaned into his touch. Captain Elliot Spencer had occupied most of her waking thoughts and to feel his flesh on hers brought with it a longing to be with him, to help him. It was a painful realization for Joey that she had gradually and quite hopelessly fallen in love with a ghost. For a few seconds, they stood before each other, silent, searching the depths in each other's eyes. Finally, Elliot spoke.

'There is always a way Joey, but I will not ask you to do it. As strong as you are, I will not risk losing you to _him_. You barely escaped with your life when I asked for your help. For that I am forever in your debt, not the other way around. I have been through enough despair in my life and I will not add to it by allowing your soul to be…to be mutilated. '

Joey fought back more tears as she watched Elliot's gaze lower to the floor in defeat.

'You said that Kirsty had freed you before so it is possible.' Her expression became determined. 'I would walk into Hell for you Elliot.'

She stepped closer to him until she was inches from his face. She raised his chin with one hand whilst the other stroked the side of his head. His look was one of puzzlement as she swept her lips over his. It wasn't long before he followed her lead and both fell into a deep embrace, each kiss more urgent than the last. He swept his fingers up the pale gown, making deep trenches in the fabric before stopping at her breast and stroking his thumb against her nipple. She murmured his name and softly bit his top lip, savouring the coolness of his skin. Although part of her knew this was a dream that she had longed for, there was lucidity about it that she had felt when she had first encountered Elliot. She could feel the softness of his skin and each time he tentatively caressed her breast and stomach, she felt the nerves in her flesh stand to attention for the Captain. He released her momentarily and raised his eyebrows.

'Joey, I think I might be a little old for you,' he said with a smirk.

'By about Eighty years or so, give or take,' she replied with a chuckle. At another time in her life it would have seemed absurd to her to be engaged in foreplay with a long deceased First World War campaigner but things had changed and for now, this felt like one of the more sane experiences. 'I don't think time really matters here,' she said matter-of-factly.

'No, I don't suppose it does.'

She moved toward him again as he placed his fingers between her legs. She pushed her hips forward and closed her eyes as he rubbed rhythmically against the wet fabric.

'We are soul mates Joey. I knew that from the first moment we met, here. You were my angel in white.'

'Then let me try to save you. Please let me help you,' she gasped, breathing harder with each exploratory caress.

'No. The only way to do that is to open the box, to delve into my Hell. I will not allow that. I cannot allow it.'

She kissed the side of his neck and nuzzled close to his ear. 'That's what I would have to do? I've solved the puzzle before, I can do it again.' She let out a long sigh. If that was the only way, then so be it. She had once defeated Pinhead with Elliot's help and God willing, she could do so a second time. It would be worth it to spend time with this extraordinary man. She rested her arms on his shoulders and groaned in pleasure.

'I will take you to the very pinnacle of ecstasy Joey. And I will enjoy making you enjoy it,' he whispered.

In the second she pushed back off him and fell to the earth, the memory of Pinhead previously invading her dreams pulsated into her conscious with a sickening thud. Last time he had appeared to her as her father. It was the same trick, using a different man she had held in esteem.

'NO!' She cried.

She looked back at where Elliot had stood and noticed the eerie changes in his features. The smile fell into a wide mocking grin. His pallor greyed and the all too familiar gridded cuts sank deeply into his flesh. The nails that had given rise to her name for him suddenly materialized, sticking out in parallel rows along his face and head. The honourable uniform from decades past was replaced with a black leather robe, gashed along the torso with flayed remnants of flesh weeping in between. The demon in leather had come back for her.

'Oh so close, Joey,' said the Cenobite in a deep, level voice.

'You invaded my dreams! YOU BASTARD! Where is he? ANSWER ME!' Joey screamed.

'He is here, with us. Don't be so antagonistic child. This is just a reminder of your long forgotten earthly pleasures and with them we were doing so well,' replied Pinhead in a taunting tone. 'And yet there is so much more to sample, Joey. That was nothing compared to the type of gratification that I can offer you.'

'Liar! It would be your own gratification, not mine.'

'Your ignorance belies your lack of experience. Your pitiful existence from the reality you dwell in is just one of the torments I can alleviate. It is all in the box Joey. In it is every answer to every question you seek. It is all indulgences satiated without remorse or mercy. If you relent to me I give you my promise that you will never be alone.'

She felt her eyes fill up again, this time with frustration and disappointment. Again, Pinhead had tricked her. Again she was made to look the fool; only this time there was no Elliot to save her.

'FUCK YOU!' Joey spat.

The Cenobite cocked his head and smirked. ' Hmm, let us not go down that path again. It is entirely too limiting, not nearly enough suffering to keep me engaged, although the bite…' he ran his forefinger across his cracked top lip 'showed some potential.' He broke into a deep, threatening chuckle that rang sharply in Joey's ears.

She lifted herself unsteadily from the dirt and began to back away. She had no idea where she was going but she knew she needed to be far away from the creature that tainted her vision. The Cenobite's black depthless eyes watched her with amusement.

'Now allow me to give you a taste of your future,' he growled.

There was a sharp whip in the air that caught Joey's attention, and another, and another. Her body shuddered with each hook that punched into her wrists and her thighs. She whined as she felt her flesh stretch and the tickle of blood escaping. She felt more shock than pain but still far more pain than she would ever wish to feel in a dream. Rivulets of red weaved down her forearm, pooling in the crease of her elbow. She struggled once and quickly learnt the lesson that it was fruitless and painful to do so. She remained still as Pinhead approached her. His expression was lazy and without emotion. He retrieved a hooked blade from the catches around his waist and slowly and deliberately sliced a line across Joey's chest. She threw her head back and screamed. When the Cenobite had finished his ministrations, Joey's head jolted forward. She stared defiantly at her tormentor.

'Is it not exquisite, Joey?'

Pinhead slashed the curved edge down the white gown, ripping the garment apart, and then traced the flow of blood with one finger, sliding the cold digit down between her breasts and following the path around her navel. He released his finger as the blood continued down to her pelvis. Looking up at Joey's disgusted expression he remarked. 'I believe I've already been there.'

Joey hated this. She hated herself. She hated him for making her enjoy it. Whilst he was present her body's senses elevated to worrying new heights. The pain of the cut was immense but the subtle trickle of her own blood along her torso felt like a thousand tongues licking every nerve ending under her skin. Pain following pleasure, the suffering and the subsequent release of torment a new chapter in depravity and wanting. But surely she hadn't wanted this?

The Cenobite caught the confused expression beneath the hatred and his dark eyes glittered with satisfaction. 'It's almost unbearable to try to understand the contradiction, is it not, Joey. But you cannot deny that this is far beyond anything your imagination would allow you in your world. There are no such restraints here.'

Joey watched with rising panic as he raised his hand up to a nail above his eye. Fear shone in her eyes as he pulled the metal appendage slowly from his skull. He smiled as he wrenched the spike free from his broken flesh, a gesture that made Joey all the more terrified and expectant.

'A kiss for a kiss Joey. Show me that spirited tongue of yours, girl.'

'I can't,' she gasped. She longed for Elliot to be here, to keep eye contact with her. To tell her that everything was going to be alright. ' Please…please tell me. Does he suffer?'

'We all do Joey. You know that better than most,' he replied. The Cenobite stroked two fingers along her cheek, a parody of the touch that Elliot had once afforded her.

Joey winced and twisted her head to the side, knowing that one way or the other, she would eventually succumb to his commands. The Demon seemed to be able to retrieve her innermost desires with an ease that made him much more persuasive. When he wanted to, he would allow her a glimpse of Elliot through gesture, expression or word and if Elliot was truly a part of this dark angel, then he would suffer with her and she would be made aware of that. She finally allowed his fingers to enter her mouth, recoiling slightly from the taste of blood under his fingernails. He took her tongue between his fingers and pulled gently, eagerly watching her face for each nuance of terror and pleasure. As he pushed the nail through the tip, he spoke to her in deep, comforting tones under her throaty, squirming protestations.

'Come now. With all that you have seen and the sounds and the smells we have allowed you so far to taste, why would you want to continue living amongst banality when you understand there is so much more to savour? Join us Joey. Join Elliot and I. We both long to show you the way. The desire is there and you only need turn the screw.'

He twisted the nail, producing a fresh new stream of blood which ran along the length of the metal and pursed his lips as Joey groaned.

The air around them was stale and all was silent. The aftermath of destruction and defeat fell heavily on Joey's shoulders. This whole game had been constructed to manipulate her into freeing the beast and if he couldn't succeed using Elliot's body then he would continue to wear her down using his own. This landscape was his. The trenches were bare because Joey did not want to see death and Pinhead had known that. He had plucked that desire from her mind as she would pick a daisy from a field of poppies. It was all part of the trap and she had given him the information that he in turn had used to lull her into a false sense of security. She whimpered as he pulled her tongue toward his mouth. Without breaking contact with her gaze, he slowly licked the bloodied tip and then sucked and swallowed the precious fluid with obvious fervour. Joey had stopped struggling and relented to him. Her body was his.

'You can see us both again Joey. All you need do is open the box,' he hissed.

But he would not have her soul. She closed her eyes and pulled her head back with all that was left of her might.

Joey awoke with a start. Immediately she scanned her wrists and ran a finger along her tongue. No blood. Sweat-soaked and feeling queasy she pushed herself forward from the seat and wiped her brow with her sodden t-shirt. She fought to steady her breath and when her pulse had slowed to a steady rate, she reached for the book on the side table and thumbed through the yellowed pages, eventually finding the last journal entry of Captain Elliot Spencer. She sighed and read it aloud.

'_For all I have seen, for every friend I have lost in this madness I can count myself lucky to have retained what is left of my soul. For all the pleasures I felt from each kill for survival and the demands they placed upon my conscience, I can spend the remainder of my days knowing that my life is mine and mine alone and if I do venture forth into that dark night, I will do so with strength of heart and the experience of one who has fought the good fight. I will (with regret) leave the ghosts of the past to rest.' _

Joey closed the book and looked to the table. The box sat upon the wood, polished and full of promises that she knew would be tainted with hurt and regret as well as pleasure and longing. Elliot's words might have saved her again and perhaps in time, Joey would see him, but for now, and with regret, she would leave the ghost to rest.


End file.
